Jetsetting
by cinnamonscrolls
Summary: AU. Klaine. Rated M. Kurt is days away from graduating, and then he will be travelling to spend 10 days in Milan. Blaine is a sexy stranger that seems to be everywhere that Kurt goes. Blaine falls in love at first sight, but how will he convince Kurt?
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. This is just for fun, and writing practice._

Kurt sighed and tapped his pen against the page in front of him. He knew that many students around him were doing exactly the same thing. Resting his head on his hand, he surveyed the room.

People were tapping pens, staring out windows, a special few were reeling off sentences by the second, and then there was Finn in the back corner snoring quietly. Kurt shook his head ruefully as he watched Finn's saliva dribble down onto the sleeve of his shirt.

The end of year blues had kicked in. This was the last exam and then he'd be graduating. He'd looked forward to this for months - the beginning of the year actually. The second that the ceremony was done, he'd be headed home, and then he'd be jet setting out of this one horse town.

It wasn't that he didn't like Lima. It was more that he was tired of it. Every day was the same thing, and all the people did the same thing. It was monotonous. It was culturally devoid.

"Pencils down." The adjudicator announced. The sounds of 50 pencils meeting their desks immediately followed. "Sir? Sir?" The older woman was definitely not used to being ignored. She humph-ed before turning on her heel and grabbing a pen off the desk.

The students stayed silent as the woman aimed and threw with effortless grace. It flew across the room deftly hitting it's mark, bouncing off Finn's head. He woke with a snort, hand rubbing at his eyes. "Mom?" He looked around the room, turning pink when he realised where he was.

Kids sniggered into their arms as their test papers were collected. Kurt flicked his fringe back into place and handed his paper over with a polite smile. He collected his bag and headed out to the parking lot.

Once ensconced in his Navigator he let his mind wander, he couldn't wait for this upcoming trip. This was a chance to be his own person and to find himself. Since the death of his mother, he'd felt like pieces of himself were missing.

It had been years, but still he would wonder whether the way he lived made her proud, and what things they had in common. He felt the all too familiar dull pain in his heart that he experienced whenever images of his mother swam through his head. Wiping a hand over his eyes, he pulled into the driveway.

He dumped his keys in the bowl on the side table as he came through the front door. The clattering in the kitchen indicated that his father was home but instead of greeting him, he mounted the stars and headed down to his room to pack a bag.

He can't avoid his dad forever, but he isn't ready to start doing the goodbyes and the sadness yet. They have a few days left to do all of that. A few days before everything is real.

He didn't dwell on what to pack, there was no need to be a drama queen when he was just going to buy more clothes there. He'd been performing at random places for year - any jobs that he could get really - so that he could pay for the trip. He'd booked the best tour available for his budget. A tour of Milan.

Italy was stylish, Kurt thought as he snapped his suitcase shut, Italy was the place where he could indulge and do everything he wanted.

"Kurt!" The bellow was loud, but not angry. He followed the source of the noise and found his dad leaning over the kitchen counter with a plate of wings in front of him.

"Dig in." Burt said, gesturing to the plate. "You have to get your strength up! Can't let jetlag take you down." Kurt smiled, plucking a wing off the plate.

Normally, he would make something healthy and low in calories but his dad seemed to be looking for something to bond over. "Jetlag couldn't _possibly_ stop me from enjoying this trip." Kurt grinned.

"Don't you think that you're a little young to leave the country by yourself?" Burt was looking everywhere but into Kurt's eyes.

Kurt threw the wing back onto the plate and tried to find somewhere to wipe the marinade that was sticking to his fingers. "Why are you asking? You don't want me to go anymore?" He couldn't believe this was happening. It was unfathomable. "I've been saving for years…" His hands were shaking, so he curled them into fists and tried to ignore them.

"You know that I've been seeing Carole, right?" Burt asked slowly, coming around the bench slowly to sit in the stool next to Kurt.

""Yes, I know. It's been a year and a half. I know you're seeing Carole. What does that have to do with Italy?" Kurt asked, exasperated.

"Carole has a son. He's older than you by a bit. More… experienced. He goes to your school, you might know him." Burt said, like he was about to divulge the greatest plan ever created.

Kurt was trying to refrain from smacking his hand into his face. "Finn?" He wasn't sure why he asked when he already knew the answer.

"Yeah! That's him. You guys are friends?" Burt looked hopeful.

Kurt didn't want to deflate him, but he couldn't lie either. He ran a hand through his hair. "Not exactly." He said, sighing.

"Well, look. What if he went with you? He wouldn't be a babysitter… Just another guy. You guys could look out for each other, as a precaution."

Kurt wasn't sure if his brain had exploded or if he had heard wrong. He wasn't sure if any of this could actually be real.

"Let me just… You think I can't take care of myself, so you want to send Finn with me?" Even out loud it didn't make sense. "He sleeps through his exams. He's scared of hot tubs!" His brain was sputtering as much as his mouth.

"Kurt, I know it might not be ideal." Kurt waved his hands at his father trying to get him to stop talking. To stop everything.

"I can't do this. Finn Hudson is not coming with me. How could he? He doesn't even have savings!" He could hear himself growing shrill, he ran his hand through his hair again. Burt just sighed.

"Carole would help Finn pay. I would pay for both of your flights." Burt spread his hands, as though laying his cards on the table.

He hopped up off the stool so fast that he almost tripped himself. "I can't deal with this right now." He left the room, grabbed his keys and headed for his car. "I'll be back later. Do not talk to Carole about this."

Burt hung his head and blew out a breath as the door slammed shut.

He went to the travel agent, and stood in the office looking at the pamphlets for Venice, Tuscany and Rome. He tried to think clearly, taking several deep breaths. He could take Finn with him and then they could go their separate ways and meet back up for the ride home.

He knew he was being selfish. Irrational, maybe. Kurt didn't know how long he spent standing there, and even when he did leave, he didn't go home. The mall was open late so he bought a new outfit for the graduation even though he knew it would barely be seen.

'What if I wanted to meet a hot stranger while I'm away?' He thought as he ran his fingers over the sleeve of an old jacket, a garment that had been used and then thrown away.


	2. Day 1

_Disclaimer: _I do not own the characters, I'm just playing with them. Especially because there's another hiatus coming. :/

_A/N: _Alrighty, so the things mentioned in this for when Kurt arrives in Milan are accurate as far as places, names, history, etc. Please review and let me know what you're thinking so far, or if you have any suggestions. Enjoy!

The day of graduation had come much sooner than he had expected. It was only a few days later when Kurt was seated with the rest of his year level in the auditorium, listening to Quinn's speech. She didn't follow the clichés. Instead, she stood with poise and a gentleness that she had rarely let others see over the last few months.

"Every great dream begins with a dreamer," she said, surveying the room. "Always remember you have within you the strength," she smiled as she caught his eye, before continuing, "the patience," here she looked to Artie, "and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world." At passion she had turned to Rachel, who admittedly was possibly one of the most passionate people any of them had ever met.

The crowd erupted in applause, with Quinn smiling graciously and cheeks growing pink at the reaction she'd provoked. She looked beautiful, utterly cherubic, her golden hair cascading down her back in waves and her makeup picture perfect. Kurt tilted his head, showing his respect. This was the proudest he'd ever been of her.

People smiled as they collected their certificates, some pausing to take photos as they shook the hand of Principal Figgins. The parents cheered, Burt whooped loudly for both Kurt and Finn, as Carole grinned, waving, with tears in her eyes.

He ignored the looks from a certain few narrow minded people, that shook their heads and whispered when it was his turn on stage. Instead he smiled and posed for Carole's photo, grinning his widest smile.

They met as a family outside the doors of McKinley, as others made their way out to change for celebrations. Burt couldn't stop grinning, and enveloped Kurt in his arms. Finn was talking about whether he could have a reward for finishing high school, as Carole just laughed as she pulled him close.

Finn twirled her, beaming, as Rachel walked by with her two dads. "Call me when you get back," she instructed Kurt, "We'll set up a girl's night." He laughed and nodded, before Rachel turned to start making plans with Finn for tomorrow.

Mercedes was the next to spot him, laughing as she ran to him. She took him by the arm, and looked at him solemnly. "Boy, you're going to meet someone. A gorgeous Italian is going to sweep you off your feet!" She looked so utterly excited by her premonition that he didn't even argue. Burt just smothered a laugh, one hand still on Kurt's shoulder.

He promised to text or call at least once a day, and then Mercedes was racing off again to find her parents. Kurt made sure to find Quinn and tell her that she'd done an amazing job, and as she took his hand in hers before kissing him on the cheek, he realised just how much he would miss everyone. "Be careful. Don't do anything _too _ostentatious." She said, before wandering off to farewell more people.

Dinner was loud. Burt and Finn had decided on the steakhouse for dinner. It was tacky, wood print wallpaper with road signs hanging behind the bar. Kurt supposed that it was meant to look like a log cabin, it even had the mounted animal heads hanging off the walls, but instead it just looked so very _Lima_.

It was also filled to the brim with people, as was probably every other restaurant in Lima. "… and that receiver!" Kurt was trying to pay attention to the conversation, despite the fact that it was about football.

Finn and Puck had been short listed for a football scholarship at the local college. Puck hadn't been too excited, claiming that he could have made it anywhere. For Finn, however, this was possibly the only way that he was going to get into a college.

"What if I took a class like sport psychology?" Finn asked starry-eyed, as he tore apart a bun. Kurt almost laughed but managed to just smile, as Carole patted her son on the arm and encouraged him not to make a rash decision.

"Kurt? Kurt, honey?" Carole was looking at him now, as though he'd missed part of the conversation. She chewed her lip slightly as Burt filled him in. "You have to make a decision now." He said slowly, as though he was hoping everything would go over easy.

Kurt sighed, running a finger around the rim of his glass as he tried to explain. "Look, dad, this was _my _trip," he said slowly. "I don't want to take anyone with me. I want to go and celebrate my independence. I want to take in the fashion capital of the world before I go to college." He avoided looking at them all now.

He wasn't sure how his family would take it. Would they be offended? Would they be mad? What if Carole was disappointed in him, and his rejection to the presence of her son? So, instead of looking at them, he looked at Finn. The safe option. He was sipping at his root beer float, and Kurt was amazed that Finn had the ability to always look young despite the fact that he was one of the oldest of their year.

"That's okay, Kurt." Burt and Carole sounded strange, although he couldn't put his finger on what it was. They lapsed into silence, and Kurt wondered if anyone else in the restaurant noticed the tense huddle in the midst of them all.

It was the middle of the night when they got home. Carole and Burt said their goodnights almost immediately, assuring him that they'd talk more in the morning. Kurt couldn't help it; that night he resented the hand that clapped him on the shoulder.

He sat in the kitchen, watching as Finn pulled random items out of the fridge to devour, despite having just eaten. Neither spoke, which was fine with them. Kurt was busy making plans. His bags were packed, he had the plane ticket, he could always try to trade it in for one on an earlier flight.

Leaving Finn behind with his peanut butter-jelly-nutella sandwich, he went to his room. Throwing the last few things into his suitcase, he ripped a page out of one of his notebooks to scrawl a quick note to his father.

'_I'm leaving the nest Dad, and I know that scares you. You wont lose me though. I'll be home in 10 days. I need this adventure, I need this to find my independence, and while you don't understand that now I think that you will when I get home. I love you. I'll stay safe and I'll call every few days at least.'_

He leaves it on his pillow, because he know that if he's not at breakfast in the morning, they'll check his bed next. He doesn't leave a note for Carole, because he's fairly sure that she already has some idea of what he's going to do. Lugging his suitcase up the stairs, he avoids the kitchen and creeps out the front door. Once in the Navigator he feels a rush of adrenaline, and grinning he makes his way to the airport.

It took almost 10 hours to get to Milan and he slept through almost all of it. He was stuck between two elderly women, who both thought he was adorable and pinched his cheeks with an odd clucking sound when he took his seat. Lucky for him, soon enough they had better things to do. Almost as soon as they took off the lady on his right fell asleep, which made him wonder why she had been arguing so much for the window seat. The woman to his left was engrossed in a new thriller novel with murder and mayhem. He fell asleep to the sounds of her gasps at the wild plot twists.

He woke early enough to catch the end of a bad movie, before they were coming into the landing. The women squawked tips at each other about how to damp down their nausea, and Kurt prayed that they worked. He'd worn his new loafers and definitely did not need them covered in vomit.

He found the tour bus outside the airport, the leader of which was a small women with olive skin and a pointed face. Her hair was pulled into a thick braid and her English was distinctly accented. She had set out specific seats for people on the bus, and had taken it upon herself to book twenty double rooms instead of forty singles. "To cut the costs of trip." She said, with barely a backward glance at them.

They took the long way from the airport to the hotel, stopping first at the Arch of Peace. It was tall and white, with thousands of intricate little motifs. Statues of horseman stood atop, and tall columns added a sense of majesty. They piled out of the bus, wandered around taking photos for five minutes before the tour guide blew her whistle signalling for them to gather around her.

"Arch was started in1806," she said disinterested, "demanded by Napoleon. Napoleon dies, and arch is left incomplete. Begins again in 1826, to be dedicated to the peace in 1815. Arch finally finished in 1833." She looked up at the puzzled faces of her customers, and surmising that there were no questions, ordered them all back onto the bus.

Kurt was seated next to a rather large man who was middle aged, balding, and extremely sweaty. He was wearing a business suit, whereas everyone else was wearing more summery clothes to suit the weather. He'd snorted when Kurt took his seat next to him, and shuffled away. The older man resolutely stared out the window, as Kurt read his guide. Many others were ignoring their partners too. Kurt personally thought that stupid group activities should have been left behind in high school.

Their next stop was the Santa Maria delle Grazie, the tour guide grabbed a small Italian flag from under her seat and lead the way off the bus. She stopped and chatted to the woman manning the tickets desk, while Kurt and the others milled around, waiting to be let in. The building was not overly impressive from the outside, instead just looking like a regular church, but in the refectory was the masterpiece they were here to see - namely, the Last Supper.

Other tourists made their way into the building so the cashier waved them through. The guide did not stop to let people admire things as they passed, instead, she screeched shrilly over her shoulder that everyone was walking too slow. Kurt tried not to be disappointed, pushing himself a little faster with a sigh.

According to the guide, they had two minutes scheduled with the painting before they had to leave. They were not to take photos, and they were not to get in the way of anyone else wanting to view it. Kurt wanted to say something, wanted to complain about the way that this was falling far short of his expectations, but he bit his tongue. This was only the first day after all.

The tour continued to be disappointing. The guide informed them that because they had overstayed at previous locations, the rest of the locations for that day had been scratched off the list. She didn't look at them as she said this, instead crossing things off on her clipboard before pulling back out onto the road. Kurt slipped his headphones in, and ignored the man next to him who was jabbering about how mp3 players had been banned from the tour.

When he had booked the tour, Kurt had been of the impression that he was going to be staying in something that was around 3 stars. He had not, however, expected a small hovel. He had a room that was the approximate size of the bathroom he had at home, and far less glamorous.

There were two single beds, an end table, a lamp, and a Virgin Mary but that was the extend of the furniture. The drawers were under the beds, and the cupboard in the corner was locked. The wallpaper was peeling, and there was mould seeping in the cornices. The carpet had been stained by a number of things he didn't want to think about, and there was no window.

Kurt didn't bother unpacking, and left the room before the surly businessman decided that he needed someone to vent at. He made his way to the roof with a sketchbook, and looking out over the city that was just going to sleep, he began to draw.

It was hours before he even grew hungry, but when his last ray of light was disappearing he pulled himself out of the artistic reverie. He stood stretching, satisfied as he heard the cracks of his joints. He picked his sketchpad up off the floor and held in closer to the grate in front of him that had a little bit of artificial light filtering through it.

He was proud of the drawing. He'd caught the lady on the corner that was peddling flowers, the couple that had spent the last few hours at the corner café, and the fiddler who was playing outside of the hotel itself. He'd added in the lanterns that were hanging off the back of the hotel to light up the alleyway.

He blew the graphite dust off the page just as a burst of hot air blew through the grate. Kurt watched with wide eyes as the humid air practically melted his hard work off the page. The paper going damp in his fingers. He couldn't tear his eyes away as the faces melted off the people, the strings melted off the fiddle, and the light melted out of the lanterns. He hung his head, and another blast erupted out of the grate, undoing all the bonds he'd put his put his hair with the hairspray.

Hanging his head he tore up the picture. He felt anger flare within him, as he caught sight of the pencils he'd used so he threw them off the top of the building with a small, frustrated scream. He picked up his sketchpad and headed back to the room. His roommate was already in bed and snoring loudly, his chest bare, and the blankets riding low on his hips.

Kurt was of the firm belief that anyone who looked like that should at least wear a shirt to bed, if not a complete set of pyjamas. He slipped on a pair of gym shorts and a singlet, before crawling into bed.


	3. Day 2: Morning Edited

_Disclaimer: _I don't own Glee, which is probably wise.

_Chapter Summary: _It's the next day of Kurt's tour, it's been extremely disappointing so far. He's set to visit two marketplaces before returning to the motel for the night, but he just might meet a fabulous stranger along the way!

_A/N: I'm sorry this took me so long, but real life intervened, coupled with my computer charger being killed. So I'll give you this half, and post the next half as soon as I can! _

Kurt tried everything he could think of to not wake up the next morning. He kept his sleep mask perfectly in place, and jammed his ear plugs further in as he ignored the wild snoring of the man in the next bed. The last day had been so miserable that he wasn't sure how he could possibly survive this one as well.

It wasn't very long until there was a sharp rap on the door. Kurt huffed at the door and threw his ear plugs across the room. They barely even muffled the noise anyway. There was a loud thump, and the tour guide burst into the room.

She straightened quickly and brushed at her clothes briskly. "The tour is leaving in 15 minutes. Bring coin." She turned on her heel and stalked from the room quickly, straight across the hall to wake the next pair.

Kurt pushed back the covers roughly, throwing his legs out of the bed and pushed up his mask so it was more of a headband. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, it was evident that his roommate had not even been disturbed by the guide's sudden appearance. He hummed softly to himself as he went about a speedy edition of his daily skincare regimen.

He dressed unnaturally quickly, by his standards, and was in the hall just in time to be told that he was too late to be able to enjoy breakfast. Sighing heavily, he slipped a couple of pieces of gum into his mouth, praying that it would hold him over until he could get his hands on some hearty Italian food.

Their schedule stated that they were to be visiting two Viales that morning, Viale Papiniano and Viale Fauche. Kurt had been especially looking forward to this day, as it was supposedly a day purely for shopping. He tried to enjoy the sites out the bus window, and keep his hopes for the day from getting too high.

The day was already a little better than the one before, he noted as the guide marked attendance, because the man who had been sneering at him the day before was absent. The guide raised her eyebrows so high that Kurt thought they might just fall off her head, and asked him where the man was. "I don't know," he replied with a shrug, which was technically accurate.

He knew full well that he hadn't woken the man before leaving the room that morning, but he wouldn't have a clue as to where the man was now.

He gave the guide his sweetest smile as her nostrils flared and she scribbled something down on her clipboard. She stomped away as Kurt snickered into his palm, turning his attention back to the scenes outside of the bus where there were brightly coloured Vespas whizzing by and gelato stores on every third street corner.

An old woman carried a basket with one half filled with breadsticks and the other with wildflowers. She walked arm in arm with a man approximately the same age who was telling her something that was accompanied with wild hand gestures. She smiled like the two had known each other for as long as they could remember, and Kurt thought that he would have loved to have drawn them.

He would have loved to have drawn everything. The cobbled streets, the children playing with marbles on the sidewalk, and the apartments all around them with their washing lines spanning the width of the street. The smell of food was all around them, and all the other patrons of the tour had found something to gawk at.

When they arrived at the first marketplace, Kurt blinked several times to make sure what he was seeing was real. He loved this place! There were hundreds of stalls, grouped by the items that they were selling. Older women held dominion over the food stalls; some selling fresh fish, and others reaming off fresh pastas so quickly that he could barely believe it.

He wandered forward with child-like abandon taking the handouts thrust at him, and stuffing them into a tote he'd grabbed on the way in. It was loud, there were children laughing and screaming, stall owners chatting across the paths to each other, and in the background he could hear a lone guitar playing. He headed forward aimlessly, smiling wider than he had in days.

Kurt wasn't shocked when a little girl with dark pigtails and striking eyes took his hand. She giggled wildly, one hand clutching his and the other a teddy bear that had clearly been restitched many times. "Mi segua! Mi segua!"

They whizzed past hundreds of people, and the stalls became flashes of colour, but the guitar that had been background noise became louder. Before he knew it, they were bursting around a tight corner into a small courtyard in the centre of the marketplace. There was a stone fountain, small fir trees, and a group of people all crowded around something that Kurt couldn't quite see.

A mellow voice rung out over the din of everything around them, and Kurt couldn't quite convince himself to do anything but listen. The girl who had been leading him smiled widely, showing a gap where she'd lost a tooth before running off again. He shuffled forward a few steps, further into the small crowd. He caught a quick glimpse of black before it was gone again.

He couldn't make out the words of the song that hung in the air, but the melody alone was the enough to make him want to get closer. He shuffled through any gap in the crowd that he could find, and upon making it to the front of the pack, was left breath taken.

A dark haired, lightly tanned boy stood strumming a guitar with the case open beside him. If Kurt had to guess, he would say that it had about seven hundred Euros in it, which would equate to about one thousand dollars back home. The boy had sunglasses obscuring some of his face but it wasn't hard to tell that he loved what he was doing. Kurt smiled and felt a pang of homesickness.

The wrapped up the song, and despite only being able to understand one or two words of it, Kurt was disappointed. The stranger thanked everyone, took a couple of playful bows as some girls threw flowers with their phone numbers attached to the stem. The older women blew him kisses before heading back off into the throng of people.

Soon enough Kurt found himself being the only one left, his feet seeming to have been rooted to the ground. He watched as the boy packed up his things, placing his money in small piles before folding them neatly and stowing them in his pockets. There was something about his face that Kurt want to talk to him - to know him. Then there was something about the body of the boy, along with the mischievous glint in his eye that made Kurt want to do bad, tawdry things.

He decided to start with an introduction.

He approached gingerly. Kurt Hummel may have be bold in regard to several things; such as style, songs and attitude, but he wasn't anywhere near confident when it came to relationships. He was forever scared that his feelings were one-sided, but this was a holiday and if things went badly he would never have to see the boy again.

"Hi, that was a great performance." He wished he could have come up with something less generic, but as he wiped his sweaty palms on his pants he realised that he was lucky if his brain could manage a conversation. "Not that I could really understand," he admitted.

The boy smiled and laughed, his teeth fairly glowed next to his tanned skin. When he spoke it was with only a light Italian accent.

"I wondered about that when I spotted you," he grinned wider, "you look far too pale to be a native Italiano. An exchange student perhaps?" He lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe some sweat off his face whilst waiting for Kurt's answer.

"Uh, no. I'm just on a holiday. I'm Kurt, by the way." He held out a hand, not quite sure what else to do.

"Ah. One of those get out and see the world type things, yes? I am Blaine, and pleased to meet you." He winked before turning so that he spoke over his shoulder to Kurt while packing away his guitar.

Kurt laughed, relaxing. "So where do you head off to after this set?" He moved so that his weight was resting on one foot.

Blaine stretched, and when his shirt rode up Kurt got a quick glance at his navel and the path of dark hairs leading downward. "I'm done for the day. I got more than enough to last me a week." He picked up his case. "I'm actually heading off now."

He turned and began to walk away, whistling a jaunty tune. Kurt sighed. "Bye." He muttered under his breath. Clearly the boy wasn't that impressed with him if he was just walking away.

"Hey!" Kurt looked up to see Blaine looking over his shoulder. "You coming?"


End file.
